


A Mortal Life

by RadientWings



Series: Songs of Shadow (Elriel Collection) [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Pining, an elain remains human!AU, and elriel cuteness, and then angst, with a good heaping of azriel feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadientWings/pseuds/RadientWings
Summary: In which Elain never gets thrown into the Cauldron and remains human, but Azriel falls in love with her anyways.(OR: A mortal Elain and immortal Azriel love story.)





	A Mortal Life

Azriel had known very few mortals in his very much immortal life. Most of the humans he’d been acquainted with over the years had been spies of his, people he’d commanded. He wouldn’t have considered them true friends, despite the invaluable services they’d rendered. Oh, they’d been well compensated for it and had his protection for their rest of their lives. But, friends? No.

(But then, Azriel had only a few beings he would consider friends. He could charm just about anyone, could get the information he wanted with just a few words, but to create an actual connection? This Azriel found hard. His heart was a hesitant thing, and when it felt, it felt _deeply_. It led too often to heartbreak.) 

When Azriel first met Elain Archeron she was as human as they came. Frightened of him and his brothers. Wearing an iron ring. A shy blush permanently staining her cheeks.

But she’d also been polite. Respectful. She’d looked him in the eyes and smiled, even with the fear and uncertainty in her gaze. And she’d been curious too, about him. Azriel had been quietly impressed by it; here she was, this shy mortal girl who was – by all accounts – the least brave of her sisters, making conversation with him with barely a tremble in her sweet voice.

A part of Azriel had known even then that Elain was different. And he knew, without a doubt, that he would be keeping an eye on her. She was an innocent human thrown into one of the most dangerous situations to ever plague their world, this war with Hybern that would doubtless cause thousands to perish. But Azriel was sick of seeing innocents die. So she would remain under his personal protection, on top of what his High Lord offered. She _and_ her sisters.

Azriel was the Night Court’s spymaster, but he was also one of its greatest warriors. Few would dare test the lengths he would go to for those under his protection.

So he did what he could for the Archeron sisters from the shadows. _With_ the shadows, always flitting about, ready to follow his command. (They obeyed him easily when he told them to stick a little closer to Elain than her sister – he wasn’t quite sure why he issued those instructions, but also didn’t stop himself. His gut feelings rarely lead him astray.)

Of course, for all his protection, even he couldn’t have predicted what was to come for the two remaining human Archeron sisters. His shadows had barely screamed a warning at him before Elain and Nesta were taken from their home to Hybern, to the Cauldron. 

The _Cauldron_. Giver and taker of life.

And Azriel’s injuries prevented him from getting them out of the hands of Hybern and the human queens. He could only watch as they prepared to throw the Archeron sisters into the Cauldron. But, by some stroke luck, of _fate_ , Nesta Archeron managed to claw her way out of the hands of her captors and tell them to toss her in first, to leave her sister be.

And so Elain Archeron remained human while Nesta became something else, something fae but also not. Something new. And she remained human when her other sister managed to pull off a miracle to get them the hell out of there. She remained human when she was taken to Velaris.

A mortal in a city of immortals.

Azriel knew she was scared, knew she wanted to go home but that she felt obliged to stay in the Night Court with Nesta; for their safety and for Nesta’s sanity. And he knew she was heartbroken through it all. A letter had arrived to her from her human fiancé, demanding the break of their engagement. The mortal lordling didn’t want to have any sort of connection to a fae-loving whore; _his_ words not Azriel’s, but _Mother_ , if they hadn’t made Azriel see red.

Yet even in her misery, she made sure to visit him as he recuperated from the bolt that had taken him down in Hybern. Azriel suspected it gave her some purpose, something familiar she could do, in this grand, magic city she felt so uncomfortable in.

He welcomed her gladly. It was the least he could do, after all, considering how he failed her and Nesta, how he hadn’t been able to stop harm from coming to them. Even when his health returned, he kept the visits going on, moving on to see her in her new home with Rhys and Feyre, who returned from the Spring Court uninjured.

He was also curious about her, about Elain. She seem terrified of everything she’d seen in the Night Court so far, seemed to be ready to run at any second, and yet she didn’t shy away from him. It filled Azriel with an odd sense of pride that this tiny slip of a mortal girl would see him – hulking, _monstrous_ – and find him worthy company.

(It also made something in him soften, made him want all the more to protect her. Elain. Lovely Elain, with her rosy cheeks and her sad eyes. With her human heart that beat so fast.)

As the weeks passed, he found himself opening up to her more and more. And she with him. They made for odd bedfellows, she and him. But it worked.

“I don’t belong anywhere,” she told him once, when they were safely ensconced in her garden – another project of hers, another reminder of her former life.

Azriel gazed at her now. “You do. You belong here.” _With us_ , he didn’t say. ( _With me_ , he didn’t want to admit even to himself.)

But Elain shook her head, voice trembling, sounding thick with tears. “How? I’m human.”

“That does not give your life any less value than mine,” he replied, adamant.

“I just want… I want to go home. But it’s not there anymore,” she admitted to him. And Azriel could hear what she didn’t want to say aloud, could see straight to the truth of the matter. Her home wasn’t hers anymore because her sisters were no longer there. Because her fiancé no longer wanted her.

Azriel wished he could have spared her this pain, but there was nothing he could do but help her move on.

So he found himself crouching in front of where she was sat in one of the garden chairs, making himself small before her. “You could make this your home. Make us your family. We take care of our own, Elain Archeron, no matter their lifespan.”

Those brown, doe eyes of hers spilled over, tears slowly tracking down her soft cheeks. “My sisters will go on without me. And it… it will cause them pain. Perhaps it’s best that I leave them now, create my life in the human world. They wouldn’t have to watch me grow old. It’s the least I could do for them both.”

 _Sweet Elain_ , Azriel thought, _thinking only of the pain of others_.

He surprised even himself by placing one of his hands over where hers were clenching the fabric of her dress. She blinked up at him. “I promise you,” he said, “they would rather spend all your years _with_ you than without. Better to love you and mourn you then attempt to forget you.”

Elain gave him a watery smile for that, turned her hand so she could link their fingers. Her hand was tiny against his. So incredibly fragile. But her grip wasn’t weak. No, never that. Cauldron, but Azriel was fascinated by it, by _her_.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping away some of her tears. She squeezed his fingers, playing idly with them before she looked at him again. “Why… why are you so kind to me?” she asked, curious and aghast with it. “I have nothing to offer you. I’m not anything.”

Azriel considered for a long moment. “Do you know, I am over five hundred years old and I have only six friends? Perhaps I could use another,” he finally said in a droll voice, but wearing a slight smile. He pierced her with his gaze then. “And you are very much _something_ , Elain.”

She pinked a little, ducked her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don't deserve your friendship, but I’m honored to have it.”

Elain let go of his hand, but leaned forward and pecked his cheek quickly, red all the while. She scurried out of her seat a mere second later, hiding her embarrassment by settling back amongst the flowers. Azriel blinked at it all, feeling oddly warm under the collar. He watched for a brief moment, admired how she seemed to belong to the plant life all around her, found himself scanning the smooth planes of her face, the slope of her neck.

He shook himself out of it when his shadows began to get restless, writing all around him. He dismissed them with a wave, before walking out to join his mortal friend.

The weeks thereafter only strengthened their friendship, their bond. Azriel found that he sought her out whenever he had a moment free of obligations, whenever he wanted to talk to someone or even sit in silence. The others began to take note of their closeness, watched them both with knowing smirks. Azriel ignored that part of it, wasn’t yet ready to give in to it. But he knew too, deep down, where this was headed.

It all came to a head a few months later, avoidable no longer.

The day it happened, the streets were filled with partygoers celebrating the Summer Solstice. Whilst in no way as important to the Night Court as the Winter Solstice, the people of Velaris still took the opportunity to have a day of feasting and partying, setting up stalls of food all over the food and filling all the squares with dancing and strings of faelights. Faeries loved their festivities, after all.

Azriel found himself wandering the streets alone this particular Summer Solstice, watching as dusk slowly fell. His friends were no doubt painting the town red, but Azriel hadn’t felt up to it, instead choosing to go off on his own.

He was glad he did when he found none other than Elain Archeron, standing tall in front of a group of so-called lesser faeries. He could tell she was nervous by the rigid line of her back, could see the kinds of looks these faeries wore, and immediately stepped through shadow to get to her. 

Elain, used to him by now, didn’t even flinch when he appeared by her side. Azriel placed a hand on her shoulder, spreading his mighty wings wide behind them both, making it clear that Elain was with him. Something in him growled with undeniable fury as the faeries continued to stare at her hungrily. (Azriel wanted to tear their faces off – the urge so strong it stunned him.) 

“I would suggest you leave us,” Azriel said gruffly, shadows weaving in and out of existence around him. Finally, the faeries seemed to realize just whom they were dealing with – they paled before scampering off.

Elain sagged in relief when they were gone, leaning back into his hand. Some of Azriel’s risen hackles fell as he turned her to face him, his wings still hiding them from the world.

“Are you all right?” he asked, scanning her from head to toe and finding her blessedly unharmed. He lifted his other hand to her free shoulder, both thumbs now rubbing gentle circles into her bare skin. (The more base part of him noticed just how much skin she was showing, her dress leaving both her shoulders uncovered; a risqué choice, for Elain. And one that Azriel couldn’t help but admire.)

“I’m sorry you were exposed to that,” he continued worriedly. “Although Velaris is a haven, not all its inhabitants are worthy of it.”

She clutched at his elbows. “I’m… I’m fine. Thank you,” Elain replied, voice sweet as bells.

“Always,” he promised. “But if I may ask, why are you out here alone? I would have thought one of your sisters would be with you.” Azriel rarely saw Elain go anywhere alone, her sisters always concerned for her safety, being mortal.

Elain just shrugged, stepping in closer to him as if she craved the safety of his presence. Azriel didn’t protest. “Rhys had something planned for Feyre,” she explained. “And Nesta… well, you know what she’s like. She didn't want to come and I didn’t want to miss it. So I came out by myself.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Azriel replied, smiling softly. He finally dropped his hands from her, only to offer her the crook of his arm. “I could use the company.”

Elain beamed up at him, some of those shadows that still haunted her eyes fading. She placed one delicate hand in his offered arm, elegant as a courtier. “I could too.”

They walked the streets together then, Azriel gently cajoling Elain into trying whatever she wanted, into letting herself enjoy the festivities. She gave in every time. Azriel had never seen her so free in her joy, practically shining with it. He was sure they made quite a sight: the feared shadowsinger, laughing with his slight human companion. 

As they got closer to the dancing, Azriel saw how Elain watched the couples wistfully. He’d drunk enough wine at this point to have the courage to pull her amongst them, twirling her skillfully into a dance. She’d beamed in delight, laughing and laughing, her body soft against his. It filled him with such desire that it could have knocked him off his feet, but still he danced with her.

They stayed out there for a while, wrapped so tightly around each other until Azriel could hear the fast beating of her human heart even with all the crowds around them.

When they finally left the square, Azriel didn’t want the night to end. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so light. Certainly not since the war had ended. But Elain, Mother, _Elain_. She made him feel such wonderful things, things he’d never experienced before.

So when Elain asked him what it was like to fly and see the city from above, he didn’t hesitate to lift her firmly into his arms, to take to the skies. She gasped in surprise, her grip around his neck tightening. But the wonder on her face… it was beautiful. She relaxed as they drifted gently through the night sky, her trust in him absolute. It made his heart – old and long-weathered – pound.

Azriel spent the entirety of the flight watching her. Cauldron, he knew what was happening to him now, knew where all of these feelings were coming from. Lovely Elain. 

 _Human_ Elain.

Azriel knew that this wasn’t a good idea. Because Elain wasn’t long for this world. She would pass through his immortal life like a burning star, utterly beautiful but gone too fast. And yet Azriel knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from falling. Not anymore. She meant too much to him already, this sweet human woman who’d ensnared him without even trying… just by being her. 

And besides, wasn’t he the one to convince her to stay in Velaris in the first place? He recalled the words he’d said to her about her sisters, repeated them in his head, felt the truth of them.

 _Better to love her and mourn her then attempt to forget her_ , he thought.

He’d take this chance at happiness, for whatever time it would last. Even if he didn’t deserve it. He just couldn’t let this – _her_ – go.

“That was amazing. _You’re_ amazing,” Elain gushed when they landed, still holding onto him, their hands entwined as they so often were nowadays. She pressed a kiss to his scarred knuckles, smiling sweetly up at him. “Thank you for tonight. I’ll never forget it.” 

Azriel felt himself flush slightly, but gave her a genteel nod of thanks. He found himself tongue-tied suddenly, unable to express the sheer depth of feeling and want in him. 

Elain, in the meantime, was staring at his wings, something like envy in her gaze. “Sometimes I wish…”

“You wish you could be like the rest of us,” he finished for her, voice rumbling. 

She nodded, eyes downcast. That protective instinct in him reared to life at the sight. He wanted nothing more than her happiness.

Azriel reached forward and tucked some of her loose hair behind her ear, thumb tracing the rounded top of it. Distinctly human. Distincty _Illyrian_. And then he guided one of her hands to the side of his own face, to the tops of _his_ round ears.

“You _are_ like the rest of us,” he told her, “at least, in all the ways that matter.”

Elain smiled, let out a little laugh, her eyes watering a bit. But then she leaned her head against his chest, cuddling against him. “Far too few people know about your sentimental side, Azriel,” Elain whispered, all gentle teasing.

Azriel stroked a hand through her honey-brown hair. “I _do_ have a reputation to uphold,” he replied dryly. “And _you_ know. That’s enough for me." 

Elain pulled away a bit, looked up at him. Her eyes were sad, knowing. She traced the edge of his jaw line gently, red-cheeked at her own boldness. “It… It shouldn’t be.”

“It’s _more_ than enough,” he replied, trapping her wandering fingers so he could drop a kiss to her palm. Elain’s breath stuttered, her eyes dilated.

Her reaction spurred him on, made him all the more certain of what he should do next. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he leaned in close and covered her lips with his like he’d wanted to do for so long. But the best part of it was that Elain kissed him back, with everything in her – like she’d been waiting for him all this time.

Azriel lost himself in that kiss, lost himself in her. His entire body felt alive with it. 

It was the start of something new, this Azriel knew. And it _was_. Years passed and Azriel remained Elain’s side, she at his. They were each other’s family, each other’s _everything_ , for decades upon decades. But, like he’d always known, it wasn't to last. No matter how much they wished it could.

He looked at his Elain now, his wonderful wife. She’d just passed her 120th birthday; very old for a human, her life extended by the magic of the healers, the power of her family of faeries. But a human body could only survive for so long.

And so they were nearing the end of their time together. Ninety-five years, they’d been together. Ninety-five. 

Mother above, Azriel wished he could have a hundred more, a _thousand_ more.

Or maybe even just another day. Another _minute_.

Anything. Anything.

But mortality was inescapable, even for the immortal.

Elain was dying; it was the undeniable, unavoidable truth. And the pain was unbearable. It was the worst agony he’d ever felt. Worse than flames on his hands, a bolt through his chest. Worse, even, than to have his wings clipped. Worse than having his shadows ripped away from him.

Because this pain… this pain was soul-deep.

Yet, nearly a hundred years later, he was reminded of the words he’d told Elain to convince her to stay with them in the first place. He repeated them to himself now, as he held her weathered, age-marked hands in his scarred ones.

_Better to love her and mourn her than forget her._

So he didn’t look away from his wife, didn’t dare. Her hair had whitened years ago, her face full of wrinkles and laugh lines. But her eyes – that warm, deep brown that always reminded him of home – those were the same. 

She was beautiful. _Lovely Elain_. 

Azriel leaned down and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She relaxed against him, gave him a soft, distant smile. No words were spoken, her body too frail for them, her mind too feverish. 

So Azriel stayed by her side, their hands entwined. _I’m here_ , he thought, _I’ll be here with you until the end_.

And when she took her last breath, when those beautiful brown eyes of her finally closed to the world, the thought came to him again. 

He put his forehead against hers, her aged skin already cooling as her blood stopped pumping. “Better to love you and mourn you,” he whispered brokenly, “than forget you.”

And Azriel never forgot. Not even a hundred years later. Not even a millennia.

He loved her. He mourned her. And he never forgot. 

 _Lovely Elain_. _Lovely, human Elain_.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm sorry


End file.
